


catch you by the mouth and you still

by kanjogirl



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, Identity Reveal, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-03
Updated: 2014-12-03
Packaged: 2018-02-28 01:29:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2713937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanjogirl/pseuds/kanjogirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>post S01E05; Barry finds different ways to talk to her and, yeah, that gets things complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	catch you by the mouth and you still

He has a hard time breathing when it comes to her.  
  
  
Sometimes, it’s like he’s out of breath when he really shouldn’t be.  She walks in the room and all thoughts go on full stop because, yeah, she’s fucking gorgeous.  And he’ll tell her but she has no clue how he really means it.    
  
  
She wraps her arm around his when they’re out and he pretends that they’re showing up together  _together_.  That the world can know he’s hers.  Or maybe it’s been that way for awhile anyway.  It’s just that he can never have  _her_ ; she’s had him all this time.  And that’s fine, he thinks.  Because it’s Iris and he’ll never sabotage what he has with her.  
  
  
Until he tells her they shouldn’t talk for awhile and he can’t even  _look_  at her.  So he leaves and it takes everything in him not to flash step out of there before he gets to the door.  All he wants to do is turn back, kneel and tell her everything but he respects Joe too much, is scared for her.  But it’s just a big fucking mess.  
  
  
He hears the small intake of breath she takes, the uncomfortable shift and he’s gone.  Back to his apartment in two seconds, sliding against the wall and covering his face.  
  
  
—-  
  
  
He reads her blog.    
  
  
Consistently.    
  
  
It’s a morning ritual at this point.  Or just an all-day thing.  Joe updates him, needlessly.  Reminding him that he should talk to her.  Barry’s not sure if telling him that they’re not talking anymore and, yeah, it’s his fault.  
  
  
Despite the dread and complete disappointment, he can’t ignore the swell of accomplishment and pride every time she makes a post.  All she wants is to tell the world  _he_   _exists_.  That he’s doing things, making a difference.  And she’s letting the world know; she took that initiative.    
  
  
And she admires the Streak.  So much.  
  
  
  
—-  
  
  
  
He can’t keep away from her.  They’ve been together for years, living under the same roof, seeing each other no more than  _at least_  a few weeks apart.  And if he’s in the same damn perimeter of Iris West, Barry’s not likely to just stay away.  
  
  
So he finds a loophole.   
  
  
Iris closes the diner on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, which makes social nights something of her past for now.  So as she’s picking up the plates on table four, he’s picking up the rest and placing them all in the kitchen.  She blinks and he’s taking the plates from her too and standing in the corner.  
  
  
"Oh, god!" she gasps, stumbling back a bit and giving a bit of a laugh.  His stomach twists.  And there’s that smile that’s always there.  Her damn smile.  "It’s you.  Again."  
  
  
"Roof?" comes his response, coded in that vibration trick.  
  
  
He’s leaning against the wall when she gets to the top.  She’s grinning, looking directly at him (but not really, sometimes he wonders).  She stays where she is and he’s grateful for the shadowed spot he’s picked out.  Crossing her arms, she does that stance she does when she wants answers.  
  
  
"I’m not taking the blog down."  
  
  
"I realize that," he says because he believes her.    
  
  
A spark of a frown.  ”Then why are you here?”  
  
  
"Just checking up on my biggest admirer."  
  
  
A bow of her head, a small laugh.  Then she’s looking back up.  ”I never said I was your biggest admirer.”  
  
  
"It’s okay, I understand," he grins and he’s almost sure she can see it because she’s grinning right back.  
  
  
"Does that mean I can have an interview now?"   
  
  
"I’d rather not."  
  
  
She hums and nods her head while taking a step forward.  He tenses.  She pauses before taking another step.  He watches her carefully.    
  
  
"So I guess this is just…" she’s closer than she should be and he zips behind her. "…a secret," she ends with a tone of disappointment.  She doesn’t turn around.  "Gonna make this a reoccurring thing?"  
  
  
"Depends."  
  
  
"Not gonna lie, I could use a bit more friends as of late."  
  
  
A small grimace because he knows exactly who that is directed to.  Her voice is filled with resentment, bitterness, and he second guesses himself.  Maybe this was a bad idea.  Or maybe a great one—-maybe she could find out—- _no_.  
  
  
"Look, about the blog, I’m sorry but…I need someone to know you’re real.  People to know you’re real."  A little laugh.  The kind she does when she’s doubting herself and he wants to reach out, whisper  _I’m real, it’s real, I’m sorry, god I’m so fucking sorry_ but he thinks that, yeah, that’s a little late for that.  ”Selfish, I know, but if the Green Arrow can get a column every day, I think you can get front page every Sunday.”  
  
  
And there’s that pride.    
  
  
He steps closer, stupidly.    
  
  
She’s looking over her shoulder and he really likes that part, just that little look.  His chest explodes when she grins, hair splayed over her shoulders.  ”Think you can forgive me for that?”  
  
  
Time stops for her then.  He’s already in front of her and she’s still looking over her shoulder.  His eyes flicker over her face, the curve of her pink lips, faded red lipstick there, bronze skin that catches the light just right, and, yeah, he’s in love.  Joe’s right.  He’s been in love for far too long.  
  
  
"I guess we’ll see Friday."  
  
  
  
Just before she looks up, he’s gone.  
  
  
  
—-  
  
  
  
It’s getting harder and harder to go to work, honestly.  Because Eddie’s there, with his pretty face and annoying presence reminding him that while he was in a coma, that dude got with the love of his life.  Immature, Barry knows.    
  
  
He still shakes Eddie’s hand and says good morning with a warm smile because he really shouldn’t have anything against the dude for being faster than he is.  
  
  
And then Joe’s there, in all his warmth and domineering self, which should be an oxymoron but it’s  _Joe._   He looks over to Barry with expectancy.  The “You ain’t shit” look he gives Barry when he’s really not doing what he’s supposed to.  He’s been used to that look since the moment he crossed the West threshold.    
  
  
"I know it’s not a custom to tell each other things," Joe begins Friday morning, "but I strongly believe that you should have let me know you stopped talking to Iris."  
  
  
Barry’s already rubbing a hand over his face and gritting his teeth before Joe’s done talking.  ”I was going to—-“  
  
  
"Not right now," Joe raises a hand.  He’s angry.  But it’s the kind that’s right beneath the surface and he’s stopping himself from blowing up.  "I don’t wanna hear it.  That’s not what I’m mad about.  I’m mad the blog is still up."  
  
  
Exasperated, he opens his arms.  ”I could always go back in time and make sure the Streak never was a thing.”  
  
  
"Could you?  While you’re at it, get me that chocolate bar unwrapped."  
  
  
Barry stares at Joe with no amusement.  Joe breathes out and shakes his head.  
  
  
"This could hurt her.  In so many ways."  
  
  
"I know."  
  
  
"Do you?"  
  
  
The way Joe asks makes Barry wonder.  
  
  
  
—-  
  
  
  
He’s done with the dishes, tables and waiting up at the top of the roof before her last break.  When she’s up there, he’s sitting up at the top of the terrace, legs dangling.    
  
  
"Am I forgiven?"  
  
  
"You make it sound like I was mad to begin with," he responds.    
  
  
"Guess the admiration goes both ways then."  
  
  
Could he help the smirk on his face?  That twist in his stomach?  That obvious blush that heats his neck to his cheeks.    
  
  
"Don’t have anything to add to that?" she questions in that voice that he recognizes instantly.  Seventh grade, Andy Mackleson; she had a crush on him and Barry remembers it was the first time she flirted right in front of him.  And now—-  "Fastest man can’t come up with a come back?"  
  
  
 _You have no fucking idea._  
  
  
  
"You pegged me for a smooth talker?"  
  
  
"I pegged you for a lot of things."  
  
  
She doesn’t miss a beat and he thinks about the irony in that.  He’s still smirking, resting his elbows upon his knees and leaning in just a bit.  She still can’t see him.  The light behind him from the street makes sure of that.  Thank god for the physics behind light, he supposes.  Especially the way it surrounds her, hitting every angle on her face, that damn smile.  
  
  
"I have to say, journalism isn’t all what it’s cracked up to be.  But I’m so interested in this—-in you.  I love writing about you and what you do."  She shrugs and turns around, does that pacing thing.  "It’s whatever.  I’m just amazed you’re even here.  I mean…" a breathy laugh as she turns again and his stills.  "…There’s something off about you.  Why visit a waitress who’s just writing about you?"  
  
  
He’s down there in a second, bold and brazen.  Smirk still there and in her ear, he whispers:  
  
  
"Guess you’re right about the admiration going both ways."  
  
  
  
—-  
  
  
  
It’s so wrong.    
  
  
She doesn’t know it’s him.  And she’s with Eddie.  And Joe will freak the fuck out. And he’s the Streak.  And fuck.  
  
  
Just  _fuck_.  
  
  
He stops by the house because he still hasn’t learned to use the laundry mat at the apartment complex and using the West dryer and washer is so much simpler.  So he shouldn’t be surprised she’s there when he walks through the door.    
  
  
But he is surprised that both Joe and Iris are arguing.  It hasn’t been this bad since she tried going for the police academy.  They’re yelling.  Well, she’s raising her voice, he’s kinda yelling.  
  
  
Everything stops when he opens the door, though.  And they stare at Barry like he’s done something wrong.  Which, yeah, he feels like that’s pretty accurate right now, considering the situation.  
  
  
Joe coughs and nods to him.  Iris simply leaves the room.  
  
  
"The blog…?" Barry treads dangerous waters, looking at Joe with some hesitation.    
  
  
He sighs loudly and gestures to the stairs Iris ran up to.  ”Among other things.”  He looks at Barry with some speculation.  ”I know…the Streak met with her a first time.  But she said something…said it like they’ve been talking.  You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”  
  
  
Barry’s being set up to fail.  If he lies, he’s dead.  If he tells the truth, he’s dead.  
  
  
"Define…talking…"  
  
  
"Dammit, Barr—-"  
  
  
"I have it covered!  It’s fine, I promise, it’ll be fi—-"  
  
  
"I’m leaving to work," comes a voice at the top of the stairs.  Barry watches with some dread as she descends, looking right past him and to the door.  "I’ll see you tomorrow."  
  
  
Joe gives Barry a warning look before Barry’s stumbling up the stairs to do his laundry.    
  
  
  
—-  
  
  
  
It’s been five weeks since Barry and Iris have spoken to each other.  The Streak and Iris?  Different story.  Three times a week.  Atop the roof.  And, yeah, maybe it’s getting out of hand.  Because at this point, they’re not just standing.  They’re sitting on the edge together sometimes, or he’s standing too close behind her, so much that he can feel her warmth.  
  
  
(Because if he were to act on any dream he’s had, he’d pull her closer, flush against him, wrap his arms around her waist, kiss her neck, say her name over and over…)  
  
  
And it’s comfortable.  Somewhat.  Because it’s not like Barry and Iris.  It’s them plus flirtation, plus that unknown territory Barry’s been barred from ever entering in her world.    
  
  
There’s that underlying cloud that hangs there.  The fact that she has a boyfriend.  That he’s still lying to her.  That this really is just them and their world, away from everyone else.  
  
  
Including Barry Allen.  
  
  
Maybe this is what she needs, he thinks.  Or what he needs.  Or maybe it’s only going to make things worse.  
  
  
—-  
  
  
"Remember that friend I told you about?"  
  
  
He’s behind her again, zipping there before he leaves.  It’s always nice to be really close but not enough to touch before they depart.  She stops him before he can this time.  
  
  
She backs into him, too close, and her hand reaches for his wrist, as if she’s initiating a dance but stops there.  He lets her, saw it coming, and he didn’t do anything.  Figures.    
  
  
He can’t breathe.  But he lets out a quiet, “Yeah.”  
  
  
"He’s not so lucky."  
  
  
It strikes him more than it should have.  He frowns and she thins her lips, bowing her head and he can’t see her expression anymore.  Just the bit of skin of her neck where her hair fails to cover.    
  
  
"We used to stay up talking until we fell asleep.  He was my best friend. Still is.  But—-we’ve stopped talking.  He kinda…broke it off.  Because of…"  She stops then and he realizes exactly what that means.  She doesn’t want to say it because that means this hypothetical superhero could leave too.    
  
  
"See you Monday, Iris," he murmurs.  
  
  
Like a dumbass, he kisses her cheek.  Maybe he was too fast for her to notice.  
  
  
—-  
  
  
  
There’s this robbery.  It’s at this bank Iris always goes ends up going to when she needs a withdraw.  Barry knows this because he’s taken those trips with her.  
  
  
It’s on Thursday, a pay day for her.  And he knows she’d be there when Cisco’s voice comes over the earpiece, telling him the exact address.  And all Barry can feel is cold, bitter dread.    
  
  
He’s flashing inside the bank from his lab in about three seconds.     
  
  
Everything’s so surreal.  Because Iris can’t get into these sort of situations.  Because she’s Iris.  She’s supposed to be untouched, away from those who can harm her because he’s supposed to make it that way.  Eddie’s supposed to make it that way.   _Joe_  is supposed to make it that way.  Iris cannot be harmed.    
  
  
But she’s in a choke hold while some idiot, six foot two, maybe, white and a fucking dumbass, has a gun to her head.  She’s looking about ready to do something and Barry can’t breathe because  _this scares the hell out of him._  
  
  
All robbers are in a corner of the room, knocked the fuck out and tied with wire in another second.  Iris wobbles on her heels with the loss of balance and he’s there, taking her wrist and she looks up after he’s blurring his face.    
  
  
"Oh, god," she whispers.  Her eyes flicker to the emblem on his chest to his face.  Maybe it’s too close.  Maybe not.  But the way her voice hits somewhere deep inside his chest, he’s not breathing again. "It’s you."  
  
  
He swallows and lets go, speeding out.  
  
  
  
—-  
  
  
  
The next night, he doesn’t go see her.  Instead, he finishes some work up at the lab.  Looks into his mother’s murder.  Just like he would have done if he hadn’t become the Flash, as her blog so fondly named him.  
  
  
He doesn’t get any phone calls besides Cisco’s to get going on some new rescue.  Joe doesn’t get the chance to talk to him.  But he’s been avoiding him, so that would explain it.  He’s just stuck.  
  
  
Because seeing Iris like that kills him.  And if  _anyone_  knew about the connection between him and Iris…she’d be in a hell of a lot worse trouble than a small bank robbery.    
  
  
  
—-  
  
  
A couple weeks go by and he pretends this is his normal life.  
  
  
He dreams of her.  Worse and escalating than his damn teen years.    
  
  
And, oh, how he’d love to feel her against him, her long hair sliding over his chest as she rises to look at him with that damn smile.  His hands gliding over her body, his lips against her skin, wanting to hear her say his name, kiss it off her mouth.    
  
  
But, yeah, bad thoughts.  
  
  
—-  
  
  
She writes something rather insulting on her blog.  Somewhere along the lines of, “anti-social, probably desperate nerd who needs to save damsels in distress to feel important.”  
  
  
So he goes to see her that night, cleaning up her dishes and not stopping to even say he’ll meet her up there.  He just waits.  And when she comes up, she looks livid.  He relates.  
  
  
"I thought that would get you here."  
  
  
"You don’t think you hit just a little below the belt?"  
  
  
She scoffs and heads to the edge of the roof.  ”Brought you here.  That’s all that mattered.  Because saving people is your thing, right?  Heroes have to save people…”  
  
  
He’s so confused, standing above the terrace.  He crosses his arms as she steps onto the edge.  Barry narrows his eyes.    
  
  
"Doing the damn  _impossible_  when everyone thinks otherwise.”  
  
  
Her skinny heels are not appropriate for balance and when she shakes a little, he’s already there besides her.  She looks directly at him, her eyes accusing and he feels like he’s been caught doing something so wrong.    
  
  
She tips over just a little and he grabs her, tugging her towards the wall.  In an instant he’s a foot in front of her.    
  
  
"What the hell?!"  
  
  
"You saw it before I did it, right?"  
  
  
"Doesn’t matter!  Are you out of your  _mind_?”  
  
  
She’s quiet then.  There’s bitterness in her face and his breathing slows because, yeah, in all context, he’s probably the one out of his mind.    
  
  
"Must be."  
  
  
He glances down, thinning his lips.  And that’s when he feels the hard tug in her direction.  In one nanosecond, he’s looking up and she’s there, pulling him to her.  He tenses but freezes and all he can think is how he should really run away.    
  
  
Her mouth is over his before he can think anything more.  Her grip on his wrist has him anchored to her and he just melts.  Surrenders because this is what he’s wanted for years.  Her other hand holds the back of his neck, pushing him closer until their bodies are flush.  Her tongue runs over his bottom lip and she’s pushing harder against him.  And that’s when he groans instinctively and a familiar reaction in his gut begins pulsing.    
  
  
He breaks the kiss but she’s pushing him around, back into the wall, hands over his chest, mouth hot over his neck.  He shudders and gathers all the words he possibly can.  
  
  
"Iris…"  
  
  
She makes a low hum from the bottom of her throat that sounds far too sexy.  Her hips grind against his and,  _fuck_  this suit.    
  
  
"—-Iris," more strangled, his hands gripping her hips harder than they should be.    
  
  
Her lips are over his again, nipping lightly until her tongue slips through.  It’s getting harder to breathe and his eyes nearly water when her hand slips further down to the inside of his thigh.    
  
  
He breaks the kiss, bowing his head and swallowing hard.  She’s still trailing her hand upwards, to the side and—-  
  
  
"Oh,  _fuck, Iris._ ”  
  
  
She’s giving this really quiet, breathy laugh and that only turns him on further.  And it really fucking shouldn’t.    
  
  
"We can’t do thi—-"  
  
  
"Barry, just shut up and kiss me."  
  
  
His heart comes to a full stop then.  Everything kind of does besides glimmer in her eyes that the damn light loves to show.  She’s got this knowing look upon her face.  The kind he’s grown up with.  That’s the look he got when he was about to leave to run to see his dad.  The look he got when he came back from the psychiatrists’.  The look he got when Jenny Smith made fun of him after asking her to prom.  The look he got when the bullies just didn’t stop chasing him.    
  
  
It’s fascinating.  How no matter what, he would tell her anything but this.  Just this.  And now his feelings and being the Flash have been mixed into just one thing and she  _knows_.  He didn’t have to tell her because, well, eventually, Iris just knows.  
  
  
He wants to ask her how long she’s known, what tipped her off.  But he’s suddenly kissing her hard, pressing her against the wall and she’s moaning into his mouth.  All self control has left him and he doesn’t want to hold back now.  Her hand reaches up, yanks that mask off him and she breaks the kiss to bring her thumb across his lips with that damn smile of hers.  
  
  
Something occurs to him that he really should have thought about earlier.  And he doesn’t want to say it at all but it comes out before he can stop himself.  ”Eddie—-“  
  
  
"Gone.  Not with him.  Gonna shut up now, Barry?"  
  
  
Then she’s kissing him again, hips grinding against his and, yeah,  _forget everything for a moment, Barry_.  He grips her thighs, pushes her up until her legs are wrapped around his waist.  His hand goes between her legs and she’s humming against his neck, leaving small nips and marks there, which, yeah, might have been another dream of his.  Gloved fingers rub against her underwear and she jerks a bit with a whimper.  He has to grin at that.  
  
  
He wants to pull it together, try to grasp how and why this is happening because this is just so unbelievable.  He’s wanted to be honest with his feelings forever, expecting the best and worst at the same time but Iris’ lips are on his skin, hands flying over his chest, whimpering as he continues to press against her clit.    
  
  
Then suddenly, she gives a frustrated huff, hair strands over her face in a seriously hot way.  He’s sure there’s hearts in his eyes.  ”Can we get you outta that suit and into my bedroom?”  
  
  
He gives her a small grimacing look.    
  
  
"Right, your bedroom."  
  
  
Because, yeah, she still lives at the house and Joe’s there and, no, not thinking of him before they do this.  No.  Not when he’s really fucking hard and Iris is really willing.    
  
  
So in five seconds, he’s plopping her on his bed, he’s out of the suit and above her, kissing along her jawline, his hands riding her dress up and her chest is bubbling with laughter.  It couldn’t be more perfect.  
  
  
When he’s between her legs, licking and sucking, her hands pull at his hair and she’s moaning his name.  He suddenly doesn’t care much about his neighbors and if they hear.   He’s palming himself as she says it in the same, breathless, passionate tone over and over ( _Barry, Barry, Barry, Barry…_ ).  And, fuck, he’s not gonna last round two.  She comes, arching her back and hair splayed all over his pillows.  When she guides him to her mouth, he feels that gut twisting feeling but the better kind.  
  
  
That feeling continues when he’s inside her and she’s rolling her hips on top of him.  And he can really appreciate real time for what it is.    
  
  
—-  
  
  
It’s a Saturday when he wakes up the next day.  Iris is snuggled into him, doing something on her phone and he raises an eyebrow tiredly.  It’s her blog and he kind of wonders what she’s going to do with that now.    
  
  
"I’m keeping it," she murmurs, putting it down, as if reading his thought process.  Turning around in the bed, she looks at him dead in the eyes and he thinks about how fucking gorgeous she is and, wow,  _is this really happening?_  
  
  
It’s the first time he can look at her, in the eyes, unabashed, and realize she knows everything at this point.  She just knows. And that’s something he really finds comfort in right now.  
  
  
"The world needs to know about you, Barry.  What you do, what you stand for…"  
  
  
"But it can hurt you."  
  
  
"Not as much as not knowing and getting hurt anyway."  
  
  
And that’s that.  Because they both know she would have continued what she was doing anyway.  The last time Iris backed out of something was the police academy and that kind of hurt her to do so (reasons why he suggested journalism and look where that got all of them).  Iris was never going to take the blog down.  At least she knows the reason why they wanted her to.  
  
  
She smiles.  And he has a hard time breathing again.  He smiles back anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> Written on tumblr. LOLOLOL Sorry for the grammatical mistakes bc I totally wrote this really fast but what’s up with this fandom, yaw? Where is all the smut? Where are the masturbation/admiration fics? No? ok. ;writes the smut fics needed for myself


End file.
